


In The Diminutive

by confettiinmyhair



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (and retconning some deaths in a tasteful way), (aside from selective retconning of Into Darkness), Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Chess, Hallucinogens, Healthy Polyamory, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, attempts at engineering jargon, comfortable bisexuality, minimal angst, recreational alcohol use, shore leave on risa, there's actually not as much sex as you'd think?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 17,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confettiinmyhair/pseuds/confettiinmyhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Homesickness (or something like it) was not something that Pavel had been prepared for - not when he was out here doing what he loved, what he'd dreamed of his whole life.</em><br/><em>Half of the appeal had been having some breathing room for once.</em><br/>*<br/>Moments from the life of Pavel Chekov, spanning the years from the summer of 2258 to the late autumn of 2263.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2258.199 - Scotty (T)

There had been something a little bit unreal about the walk down to the phaser bay.  
  
He made his way through parts of the ship that he’d only seen in blueprints, but had somehow never personally been through - it was a little bit like finding an entire neighborhood you hadn’t really seen before in the city you’d grown up in.  
  
"Mr. Scott?"  
  
A hand waved into view from behind a photon routing conduit.  
  
Pavel took a deep breath, knew that he shouldn't feel so nervous. (But this was real life, this wasn't a thesis, this was a _real thing_ , and it was no secret how particular the man was about the ship...)  
  
"Sorry, this is taking me a tick or two longer than I thought!" Scotty finally called out.  
  
As Pavel rounded the end of the conduit, he found the engineer hunched over an open panel, squinting in irritation at a phasic multimeter, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, something smudged across his left cheek.  
  
A little chime sounded, and Scotty grunted with a small, satisfied grin, “Found you, you bastard."  
  
In one smooth motion, he reached in, plucked one of the clear cubes from its housing, and replaced it with another from the tray next to him on the floor.  
  
Pavel blinked, realizing he'd been staring, and glanced away for a moment to collect himself.  
  
Tray, scanner, and discarded part in hand, Scotty finally stood.  
  
"Yeah, sorry. Occam’s razor, right? That’ll teach me to dive in on the targetting array if I haven’t checked the capacitors first, I guess. Come on, walk with me, and we'll talk."  
  
Scotty led the way back along the corridors towards Main Engineering, rolling his sleeves back down as he spoke.  
  
"You're the one with all the flash tricks, right? Targeting a transport on freefalling organic subjects without variable input equations? That was some real brilliance - you'll have to show me that one sometime. But, meantime, let me see what you have."  
  
Gobsmacked as he was, Pavel handed the PADD over.  
  
"I – thank you, sir. That's hardly... I mean, transwarp beaming? You've done the impossible."  
  
A strange expression passed over Scotty's face for a moment, but he shrugged it off.  
  
"Congratulate me when it's declassified, maybe. So. I saw the base equations in your message – I assume you've got something more substantial for me?"  
  
Pavel nodded as Scotty began scrolling over the screen.  
  
"Yes, sir. I have multiple situational projections, as well, you’ll see on the third page. It comes out to an average of at least a 5% improvement in overall long range sensor clarity and signal stability, with the roof being about a 7% improvement. Not much, I know, but-"  
  
Scotty shook his head.  
  
"Has there been much of a problem with it? Signal reception, I mean."  
  
"Oh, no. Everything is fine. I just thought it could be... better."   
  
"So you just worked this out in your off time?"  
  
Pavel shrugged, not entirely sure how to answer that.  
  
"I don't sleep much. So I work on things."  
  
Scotty glanced back down at the PADD, cocking an eyebrow.  
  
"Alright. I mean, your numbers look sound… let me take a look at the sims first, but I'll let you know when we try to implement it."  
  
It was a struggle to keep his face under control. _When_ , not _if_.  
  
"Of course. Thank you, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have purposely avoided writing various characters' accents out for the entirety of this fic, mostly for the sake of readability.
> 
> However, Pavel does speak Russian occasionally; in those instances, I have formatted translations into hover text (aside from once or twice where other characters translating the words is a plot point).


	2. 2258.263-264 - Gaila (T)

It was apparently a strange human cliché, to fall more in love with life after a near-miss with death.  
  
Well… maybe so, maybe not.  
  
But after 39 Earth-standard hours trapped in a failing life-support field in one of the Farragut’s shuttles, before and search-and-rescue could be mounted, well… Gaila would take the cliché, and perhaps avoid cramped spaces for a while  
  
Someone among the Thousand Gods had seen fit to spare her when so many others had died, and she was not about to take that for granted.  
  
*  
  
Nyota did not come alone on her first shore leave, but that was alright. Gaila might have liked some time alone with her, but Pavel was clearly enjoying himself, and had a wicked little sense of humor under all that shyness.  
  
But then Nyota had stepped away for a few minutes for a comm home, and Gaila decided that the shyness would not do at all.  
  
There was a certain value in silences, but there was no place for them over drinks at the very end of summer, in a place so vibrant with life.  
  
“I think I do remember you, after all.”  
  
“Me? Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Pavel laughed back.  
  
“No, I do! You’re Hikaru’s friend, right? You used to bring him lunch in the botany labs. And from, uhm... Diplomacy and Cultural Relations, second semester. I always thought your voice sounded like singing, when you were nervous. Very pretty.”  
  
She watched him blush bright, and smiled at it.  
  
“I apologize. I meant it as a compliment.”  
  
He smiled, then, though he tried to hide it in his drink.  
  
“Then I hope you do not mind me saying that I thought - that I think your name is lovely. It sounds… it sounds very Russian. It would be short for Galina.”  
  
There. She knew she’d find it without too much trouble.  
  
“Galina. Now _that_ sounds like dancing. Don’t you think? To dance the Galina in the moonlight."  
  
They both laughed, and she regarded him carefully over her glass.  
  
“Do you like dancing, Pavel?”  
  
“I am not very good at it.”  
  
“And that was not what I asked. Come on,” she said, standing, holding out her hand, “and we will find you someone to dance with.”  
  
“So much effort, when you are already right here?” he smiled back, standing to take her hand.  
  
Well. Wasn’t that something?  
  
*  
  
It should probably have been difficult, dancing with someone so much shorter than she was. It was certainly unusual, but they managed, and he managed to keep up with her.  
  
A few minutes flowed into almost an hour, into Nyota joining them under all the colored lights with fresh drinks, into the three of them hurrying through the cold night air, snapping blurry pictures of each other with horrible expressions on their comms, and collapsing into a giggling heap on the big sofa of the room Gaila had rented them.  
  
She might have favored open spaces now, might have felt nervous about returning to space, but she could say without hesitation that she had missed the familiarity of being so tangled in with others - she slept more soundly that night than she had since she left Botchok.  
  
*  
  
“Promise me you’ll think about it?” Nyota whispered, as they hugged on the shuttle platform. “You have no idea how much I miss seeing my best girl every day.”  
  
Gaila smiled, trying not to cry as she pressed her face into Nyota’s shoulder for a moment.  
  
“When I’m ready to go back up, you’ll be the first one to know. I promise you.”  
  
Nyota pressed a heavy kiss to her cheek as she pulled away, and they both took deep breaths, nodding at each other.  
  
“And you, Pavel Chekov…” she said, grounding herself as she turned, letting her smile spread. “You are a good friend, if Nyota trusts you. We will dance again someday.”  
  
“And until then, we will dance in my dreams,” he smiled back, and she couldn’t help but clap a hand over her mouth at the laughter bubbling up.  
  
“Oh, I like this one, Nyota. Keep him out of trouble.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We haven't seen the last of Gaila, I promise.


	3. 2258.295-296 - Scotty (T)

His heart leapt into his throat as he read the message.

_Sensor augment ready to run. Let me know when you rotate off, and we'll patch it - sorry it took a while._

He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. _When, not if._

It was such a minor thing, but it was a rush that he had finally found a place where his pet theories were being given actual consideration.

"Is Gaila trying to sweet talk you again?"

The raised eyebrow Hikaru was flashing him made him laugh.

"No, not exactly."

*

"Well… no alarm klaxons, and we're still here," Scotty nodded, eyes still fixed on the monitor feed over Pavel's shoulder. "I’d call that a win so far."

He clapped a hand to Pavel's back.

"And as such, let's celebrate. First question: are you old enough for contraband liquor?"

"This warrants a celebration?" Pavel asked, gesturing at the console.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'm having one, and it felt polite to offer."

*

"Where do you actually make that?" Pavel asked, eyeing the jar Scotty was pouring from.

"Ehhhhh... the less you know, the better," he answered, "But if it makes you feel better, I haven't gone blind yet."

The metal cup was perhaps the equivalent of two shots, and  Pavel raised a dubious eyebrow as he accepted it.

"It is for sipping. _Sipping_ ," Scotty intoned before letting the cup go, taking a seat with a cup of his own.

After a curious sniff, Pavel took a tiny taste. It had enough of a zing to make him blink hard for a moment, but the flavor was not terrible.

"What do you call this?"

Scotty shrugged. "I think it would properly be considered white lightning, but it's not exactly the classic still process. Let's say... Warp Ten."

Pavel smiled at the joke, took another sip.

"It's not so bad. So, what was your second question?"

Scotty tapped the side of his cup pensively before he answered.

"Well, not to condescend, but what the hell is someone like you doing in a gold shirt?"

"...Sir?"

"I saw the record of the transporter work, from the Narada incident. And you do complex physics just to pass the time, apparently. _And_ from what I hear, you tend to have a decent shot against Commander Spock at chess... not to mention that bit where you were an academy freshman at what, fourteen? So you could do... anything, and you're on helm?"

Accepted at fourteen, started at fifteen, but he wasn’t going to argue the point. Pavel shrugged.

"Not to condescend, Mr. Scott, but how often do you get to look out of a viewport?"

He watched Scotty's jaw drop open slightly, just for a moment, before he burst out laughing, holding his cup up in a toasting gesture.

"Point bloody well taken."

It was at that moment, entirely too pleased with himself, that Pavel toasted in return and slammed back half of the liquid in his cup without thinking.

There were very few moments in his life that Pavel would list under "instant regrets". An understatement: It Burnt.

He somehow still had the cup clutched in his hand, sniffing deeply and gasping for breath as he was. Scotty had leapt up, and was thumping him soundly on the back

"You're just gonna have to breathe it out, then. I warned you, didn't I?"

He nodded to Scotty's laughter, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

"Это яд," he managed to cough out, finally, and immediately grimaced through another small sip.

"I don't know what that means, but I see the Chekovs don't raise quitters," Scotty chuckled, and walked back over to his chair.

"What is that?" Pavel asked, pointing at an odd geometric sculpture up on the little shelf over the desk.

"Hm? Oh, that. Present from a professor, before the - before I got sent to DV. You ever see a rubik’s cube?"

He reached up to pull it down, turning it over in his hands a few times before he tossed it over softly.

"What is this called?"

"She called it a 'skewb', whatever that means. Works on the same principles, and it’s better than a stress ball."

*

The Chekovs did not raise quitters, though Pavel took care to sip his way through the rest of the cup, and a second, and part of a third, as he and Scotty took increasingly unsuccessful turns on the little puzzle block.

Warp Ten was indeed not strong enough to send him blind, but he certainly could not feel his feet as he finally wound his way back to his quarters.

*

When he woke, he was still in his uniform, sprawled over his covers, and realized that he had apparently absconded with the skewb, which he’d been clutching in his sleep.

He fished in his pocket for his comm, snapped a picture of it, and sent it off.

_I’m not usually a thief!_

When he stepped out of the shower a little while later, the reply was blinking on the screen.

_Keep it until you solve it. And y’know, I think you’re right - 'Mitya' has a nice ring to it._

"о нет!" Pavel gasped, swallowing down his embarrassment as he remembered insisting that 'Monty' was 'almost Russian enough to count', even if it didn't directly translate.

 _Then I am glad to have chosen well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But, what IS a 'skewb'?" [Something that makes my head hurt just to watch people try and solve.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skewb_Ultimate)
> 
> Also, if you're going to drink 190-proof alcohol, have some water on hand. You won't be any less drunk, and your body will feel less destroyed in the morning.
> 
>  
> 
> *
> 
> In regards to Pavel's age:
> 
> While I'm not sure how canon it is, I've only ever heard "September 19" as his birthdate.
> 
> On the other hand, if September 19th is to be taken as fact, he would not have even been 17 by the time of the Narada incident if we take 2241 as his birth year.
> 
> I therefore posit a 2240 date, seeing as how canon itself is pretty darned inconsistent within the three Kelvin-timeline movies themselves, and because I'm rather attached to the idea of him as a Virgo.


	4. 2259.17 - Nyota (G)

It took Pavel quite a long time to realize that Nyota had stopped talking and that he was being stared at.  This wasn't like him – they didn't get to eat together often anymore, and it wasn't like him to blank out on her entirely.

She reached across the table to poke him gently in the forehead when he finally looked up.

"О чем ты думаешь?" she asked.

Pavel took a long moment to sigh before slipping into Standard.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just... wistful? Is that the word?"

"Yeah? What's his name?" she teased, and he laughed through an eyeroll.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I am... missing little things about home. I like being out here. I like doing what I do. I like... being my own person. But I miss... hm. You know. Little things," he shrugged, punctuating his sentences with little stabs at his food.

"It's different when they’re not a transport credit away, huh?"

He rolled his eyes again with a slow nod.

"I got a transmission, a few days ago. Holos from my cousin's graduation. 'Pasha got out of here before me, but I'm finally catching up to my baby cousin after all,' that sort of thing. I never thought I'd miss that. Or the big family meals, and all the shouting. So much shouting. And the singing."

She nodded back.

"Yeah. I miss my sisters. Even with the holos, and the calls, it's tough knowing I can't just be there for them. And yeah, I'm probably gonna miss a couple graduations."

She took another bite of food, a question sliding into her mind as she chewed.

"What would mine be? I've never thought about it," she finally asked. When Pavel quirked his eyebrow at her, she clarified, "The nicknames. The Diminutive. Pavel, Pasha, Gaila, Galina... Nyota..."

She made an open gesture, inviting him to finish the thought.

"Ah. I'm not sure? I might not say Nyoshka... I'd probably say Nyosha."

"What, you think Nyoshka sounds too familiar?"

"Yes. I would not presume as much."

She reached across the table again, this time to pat his hand.

"Pasha, how many times have we ended up wearing each other’s clothes on shore leave? I think we’re familiar."   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOooooOOOOoooohhhh, she said the thing!
> 
> *
> 
> I'd like to point out that while I do speak Russian, I'd hardy call myself fluent. If you ever notice a mistake that I've made as the fic progresses, please don't hesitate to mention it to me!


	5. 2259.118-119 - Scotty (T)

There was barely a moment to breathe once he had the warp core primed and the engines had spun up, but a moment was all he needed.

He’d never really been down here during crunch time, had never been able to develop an appreciation for how flawlessly soundproofed this office was.

But it was enough that for a moment, Pavel could take a breath and stave off the panic bubbling up in his chest.

The trust the captain was placing in him was too much.

He wasn’t even a member of engineering. Not really. Just because he’d been spending time down here, just because he had Scotty’s ear off-duty, didn’t mean…

Something stopped his eye.

Knocked to the back of a cubby over the work bench, he spotted one of the little test models he’d been working on a few months prior.

It was a funny little argument he and Scotty had had about streamlining the inertial dampeners, about the interface with the gravitational nodes, after which he’d spent three days cobbling together an actual (significantly scaled-down) example of what he was talking about.

Scotty had probably forgotten it when he left, missed it, but the implication behind him having kept it at all was... well, frankly more than Pavel wanted to examine particularly closely at the moment.

It should still have been Scotty down here. Pavel wouldn’t have even been there, then, had it not been for - what. A hobby? A strange foray into a second specialization? Friendship…?

He breathed in deeply, came back to himself, and squared his shoulders as he turned towards the door.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been down here, but if he needed to be, then he was going to see it through.

*

_It had been mere months before, New Year’s Eve, the two of them and Hikaru and Nyota sitting up on the walkway over the core structure, spectacularly drunk before they’d even gotten around to toasting each other._

_"And here’s to this great lady,” Scotty had sighed, gesturing widely at the bay around them, leaning in to clap a hand on Pavel’s shoulder. “She’ll tell you everything you need to know, if you just listen, Pasha, I can promise you that every time_.”

The leak had to be behind paneling, venting somewhere they couldn’t see, and it had to be significant, but the pressure gauges had been tampered with, so trying for the obvious was out the window, and they had to -

_Just listen._

He stared at the pipe under his hand, the ever-so-slight pressure of the coolant rushing within evident even to the touch.

He leaned in, pressed his ear to it, and

_Just listen._

The slightest hint of the rush of pressurized gas was obvious, even through the plasticine, the silicate, the metal… The echo would be louder as they approached the leak point, or points.

It was a shot, and if they worked quickly…

*

His hands could have slipped at any moment, or he could have fallen through the rails himself, could have watched them die, or all three of them would have been dead...

Could have, could have, could have...

He’d almost certainly bruised his ribs in the process, felt every breath in the wrong way, every move as he sprinted for the manual override, as he slid along the floor and felt like his body was ripping in half as he pried the safety panel open.

*

The little _shift_ was visceral as the ship’s systems blinked back online, one after another, and he rounded the stairwell back towards the core.

Scotty was pushing himself up out of a console jumpseat, and raised his other hand from clutching his forehead to signal Pavel to stop.

“I heard the second alarm signal! How did - but - you did not go  _in there_?” Pavel gasped, finally doubling over from the strain.

“No. No, not me. You’re… you’re relieved, Ensign. Alright? Get gone.”

Pavel looked up, registering the sheen of grief on Scotty’s expression.

“Sir?”

“Pasha, I - you really don’t want to see what’s back there, and they’re gonna need you on the bridge. You’ve seen so much today already, just -”

Pavel straightened with a tight grimace, then moving under some kind of unholy mix of adrenaline and nerves, leaned up on his toes to press his lips to the corner of Scotty’s mouth, just for a moment.

“We will talk, later. Yes?”

Scotty nodded, some kind of stunned surprise on his face.

“Later, yes. Go on, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice a discrepancy between the canon Into Darkness dates and the dates I'm using for this (and the next few) chapters.  
> That was a deliberate choice, as I felt they meshed better with the 2260 memorial and relaunch.
> 
> (As for the actual events of Into Darkness, I have this to say: anything that happened before the warp core reset, I'm choosing to largely ignore. Why was the Enterprise out and about? Why was Sulu acting captain for a short time? Why did Scotty chose to resign? That's yours to decide. Whatever your more-coherent version of Into Darkness was, outside of the few elements I've chosen to work with, is entirely up to you.)
> 
> (Spoiler alert for later chapters, though: Christopher Pike is not dead. This is my fic, and I will quietly retcon all the deaths I want to.)


	6. 2259.119- Hikaru (E)

"Ben is going to kill me," Pavel laughed, grinding forward against Hikaru's thigh.

His hands tightened on Pavel's wrists, keeping him pinned to the wall, watching his face as he dipped back in for another kiss.

"I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think he knows about us."

Blushing harder, Pavel shook his head, his words barely pushing above a throaty whisper.

"Hishkou, Hishkou. I won't be able to tell him what you – ah, yes,  _ just like _ \- uhm. What you looked like on the bridge. About your  _ expression _ when you threatened to blow that ship out of the sky."

"You two gossip about me?" Hikaru smiled against Pavel's lips, shifting his thigh just-so to draw another low groan.

"Can you blame us? Боже , I'm... oh, I'm close..."

"I can threaten all day - you're the one who brought us home, sweetheart. So come on. Come on and get it."

He sighed into the kiss, Pavel's needy groans muffling against his mouth as his rutting grew desperate.

They could have died. Engineering could have gone critical, the bridge could finally have fractured to pieces…

They were alive, they were  _ alive _ ...   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an explanation for Hikaru's nickname a few chapters away, but it didn't feel... particularly relevant here.


	7. 2259.124 - Bones (G)

Chekov’s fingers were pressed gently to the glass of the observation window. It was almost a blow in and of itself to see the expression on his face turn so distant.

“How do you know that it will work?” he finally said.

There was no malice in the question, and Bones couldn’t blame him for asking.

“Honestly, I don’t. But he’s comatose when he should be dead. That’s not nothing.”

“No, it is not. It makes no sense, but… neither has this whole week.”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

He raised an eyebrow as he watched Chekov shift uncomfortably on his feet for probably the dozenth time.

“You really gonna make me ask what’s going on there?”

“Hm?" Chekov looked down at himself, and shrugged as he looked up. "Oh, I’m just bruised, still. Not actually so bad.”

“Not bad enough that you’re not taking full breaths? Right. Come on," he said, gesturing for Chekov to follow him down the hall.

“No, you’re busy, I should-”

“He’s not awake yet, and it’ll make me feel better to know you’re not gonna misplace a fracture.”

*

“What the hell _happened_?”

The skin over Chekov’s ribs was an absolute mess of purple and faint green. He shrugged slightly.

“It did not look so bad at first. It was when I kept the Captain and Mr. Scott from falling.”

“From… when, now?”

Chekov sighed, rubbing between his eyes befre he answered.  
  
“In engineering, when the gravity and stabilizers were failing. They almost fell from a catwalk, but I caught them in time.”

“You caught _them_? _Both_?”

“Well. The Captain caught Mr. Scott, and _then_ I caught them both. I probably would have gone over with them, if not for the railing.”

“Good god. Helm’s just full of surprises, huh?” He turned his attention to his PADD as he made a few passes with the tricorder, and shook his head. “Well, everything’s intact, but I still don’t understand why you’re walking around like this.”

“There were people who were worse off than me. Being sore didn’t feel quite as important.”

Bones supposed he didn’t have a good response to that, and moved to find the tissue regenerator.

“You been through the debriefings yet?” he asked, adjusting the controls on the device.

“No. Not officially, anyway. They haven’t worked their way to me yet.”

“Oh, sure, you’re only the one who kept the warp core from toasting us. Twice. Alright, now, try to hold still, but keep breathing. This is definitely gonna pinch a bit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled for a while with whether or not Dr. McCoy would refer to himself as Bones, and in the end, I decided that it was easier than deciding on which version of "Leonard" he would go with.


	8. 2259.137 - Scotty (E)

_Do you remember life before debriefing? I bloody well do not._

The message was a few hours old, and Pavel couldn’t help but burst out laughing, scrolling to the next.

_Pick up where we left off? You know where to find me._

*

The footsteps were soft, barely ringing in the silence of the main chamber.

"Where is everyone?" Pavel called out, stepping off of the catwalk.

"See you got my message," Scotty smiled, gesturing to top of the console housing he was perched on, and locked the last of the circuit paneling back into place. "Shipyard Union regs. One day in ten, all work halts. Or it will, seeing as it hasn’t technically started yet."

"And yet, here you are. A day early, yes?"

" _I'm_ not shipyard union."

Pavel sat slowly, his gaze fixed on the inert warp core looming over them.

"Has it ever been so quiet down here?"

Scotty shrugged.

"Not to my memory. All I’ve got running is environmentals... you're right, though. I like it, but it feels a little spooky."

"Like a big, empty cathedral. Or like it might just switch itself on suddenly, yes?" Pavel agreed.

Scotty smiled gently at Pavel's profile in the dim glow from the catwalk lighting, watched as he shook his head and spoke again.

"It's going to take a long time to get over, I think. I mean, we learn about, you know, everything that can go wrong, but a few corrupted lines of code, a few tiny pieces out of place, and we could all just be..." Pavel mimed an explosion with his hands, sighing deeply. "Do you think about that often?"

Scotty nodded.

"Probably more often than I care to admit."

Reaching out, he placed a hand gently on Pavel's shoulder.

"Some people didn’t make it through, but there are _so many of us_ alive because of _you_. You do know that, right?"

"Yes. It's just... difficult. Wondering if we could have done more, maybe," Pavel whispered.

"I'd be worried if it _wasn't_. I'm dead serious, though – you ever decide you're sick of surfing a console, you should go back for a few more years. You could do this," he said, gesturing to the structure above them, "without too much work."

"I couldn’t steal your thunder that way."

"I'd like to see you even try," Scotty laughed.

Without another word, he turned to reach into the pack to his left and moved the bottle to sit between them.

Pavel picked it up, studying the label closely before he said anything.

"Боже... _Mitya_. Do I want to ask what you did to get this?"

"Few small favors. Nothing so outlandish as you might imagine. I thought you deserved something better than the still could crank out, at least. All things considered."

He watched Pavel turn the bottle over in his hands a few times, watched the motion of his shoulders as he didn't-quite-shrug.

"This is…” Pavel finally smiled. "I'd feel like I was wasting it. Besides, I like the moonshine just fine."

"You earned that. More than. I mean, in ways… in ways I can’t ever repay, and I mean that.  So do whatever you'd like, but it'd be a pity if you never sat down and enjoyed it. I mean, after all, you never know when we might all be..."

Scotty reenacted the explosion gesture, watched the laughter spread on Pavel’s face with a quiet mumble of Russian.

"What was that, now?"

As he set the bottle down delicately, Pavel looked over, an eyebrow raised.

"I said: _Whatever_ I'd like?"

The moment drew out between them, still and tense, and Scotty could only smile back, not willing to be the one to break it.

And yet, he was somehow not prepared for Pavel's arms around his neck, nor for Pavel's quiet sigh in the instant before their mouths met.

Scotty leaned into it, let himself sink into the sensation for only the briefest moment before pulling back gently.

 _Stunned_ didn’t begin to cover it.

Meeting his gaze, finally, he brought a hand up to rest against Pavel's jaw.

"Are you sure?"

With the sweetest little grin, Pavel nodded.

“Absolutely. Are you?”

And with that Scotty drew back in, carefully at first, until the moment Pavel's mouth was open against his with a throaty whimper.

This wasn't the place for it, by anyone's measure. Shouldn't have been.

It was almost too open, made it feel all the more obscene... but there wouldn't be another soul in the place for hours, and he was too lost in the _noises_ he could draw out of Pavel with little more than a press of teeth to the collarbones or with the drag of his thumbs along the skin of Pavel's hips, and neither of them even had their clothes off.

He was too lost in the way Pavel was clutching at him, in the way his mouth tasted...

The words Pavel was finally groaning out sounded enough like rough little pleas, or a question, from the tone... but still...

"You know I don't understand, right?" he grinned, leaning down to whisper the words in Pavel's ear and trail sharp little kisses back down his neck.

Pavel shuddered at the sensation and pulled back to look up at him, somehow managing to blush harder as he spoke.

"I said that I want you right here. That I... that I've imagined that before. Unless you have a better idea?"

Though he considered for a moment whether the walk to his barely-restored quarters might have been worth it, Scotty couldn't say he _did_ have any better ideas, and was for once glad for the "emergency" supplies he kept in one of the inner zips of his toolkit.

*  
  
Not in his wildest dreams could say he'd ever thought he'd have Pavel bloody Chekov spread out on his back over a (disengaged) nacelle diagnostics console not twenty minutes later, stretched open around three of his fingers and begging Scotty to stop teasing him.

Nothing he'd ever imagined in the quiet hours of lonely nights would ever have measured up to the needy, satisfied groan Pavel let out at the first slow thrust of his cock.

Pavel was an _experience._

He was tight heat and dirty laughter, astoundingly flexible legs spread wide, those clever, lovely eyes fluttering shut, head tipped back with a whimpered plea of _yes, just there, please, Mitya, so I can come..._

He couldn't help the noise he made as Pavel arched under him, tensed, and came across his own stomach, and god, but he almost went over in the tight clench of it.

**

It was intense in a way Pavel doubted he'd ever be able to brace for.

It was different from the rough, needy fucking he tended towards with most people, and different again from the aching, leisurely easiness that Hikaru tended towards.

This was new. This was being approached like a complex system by someone who enjoyed a good puzzle, being taken apart with deft hands by someone who could piece him back together just as easily.

(Deft hands, and a surprisingly thick cock. Good god.)

He was shuddering through the aftershocks, wrapping his legs around Scotty's waist, drawing him in to press dazed, grinning kisses to his neck and shoulders.

"Come in me," he whispered, and again, and a third time.

He gasped and whined at Scotty's fingers digging into the backs of his thighs, at the rougher pace of his thrusting, at the deep, filthy moan in his ear as Scotty ground into him.

Yes. This was new and good, not _better_ but _different_ , and проклятый все if he knew how he'd ever be able to give it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How 'bout that mid-chapter perspective shift, am I right? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> *
> 
> (Necessary PSA: Please, for the love of god, always use protection during sex. I headcanon that members of Starfleet are regularly and vigorously inoculated against a whole plethora of things, but we in this century should consider our health when possible.)


	9. 2261.268 - Nyota (T)

The ship was docked on Starbase 12 for a 32-hour mandatory shipwide leave. It was a few days too late to _properly_ be Pavel’s birthday, but who was counting?

The bar was louder than she'd been prepared for, and the drinks had been... well, none of them could touch Warp Ten, but they were still suspiciously strong.

Pavel was half-slumped against Hikaru (no last names or titles – these were not duty hours), half-mumbling a song in Russian that almost sounded familiar, nodding along, and Nyota leaned over to tap him on the shoulder.

"What song is that?"

"Hm?" 

He blinked slowly, looking up at her with a small grin, and sang louder this time. It was an old earth song – the tune was familiar, though it still did not answer her question.

"What does _svoboda_ mean, Pasha?"

He laughed at that, toasted his glass to Hikaru's, leaned over the table to similarly toast Monty.

" _Svoboda_ ," he crooned in the same cadence he gave to _Nyoshka_ , turning to wink at her, "means _freedom_."

For the first time in all the years she’d known him, Nyota could finally say with clarity that she really _understood_ :

It wasn’t about the soft, innocent expression, and it wasn’t about any kind of feigned vulnerability.

At the end of the day, Pavel Chekov could look at you like you were the only other person alive in the universe, and you’d been _missed_.

She took a deep breath, laughing as she pinched his shoulder.

“Brat.”

Nyoshka would always be her favorite nickname, the one that felt like family, but she would always secretly cherish the day that Pavel had made her blush like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So, what happened in the two year gap?"
> 
> Hikaru and Ben got married while the Enterprise was still in refits. Pavel is still his adorable promiscuous self. Gaila's still not quite ready to leave Earth.
> 
> "You Romanized the Russian this time!" A stylistic choice; hover text would have ruined the flow a little bit.
> 
> "He's turning 21! Who does he go home with?" Confer among yourselves and get back to me.


	10. 2263.01-.02 - Bones (T)

Once every two months or so, it just so happened that certain respective duty rosters synched just-so, and they'd all have a few hours' overlap to kick back together.

The game was typically poker, or some iteration thereof, more for bragging rights than for anything else.

Typically, anyhow.

And sure, it was only a day and change until they were all on shore leave, but there was no point in shirking tradition.

The deck hit the table in front of him, and Bones looked up from his drink as Chekov took a seat across from him.

"Well, Happy New Year to you, too."

Chekov stared him down for a moment, seeming to steel himself for something.

"We both know that you have something of mine. Something that you had a right to confiscate, as my superior, but something... that was a gift. From another superior. And it holds a great deal of sentimental value."

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at that.

"Don't tell me I just tried to give Jim back a present he gave you."

Chekov's eyes went wide, and he gasped out a chuckle.

"Is that why?  Oh, _Leonichka_ , you could have just asked! But no, it was not the Captain."

Bones shrugged again, noncommittally, trying not to blush at the endearment (bestowed during a particularly dicey evening of blackjack) as he always did when Chekov threw it out during these games.

"Yeah, but that wouldn't have been as fun. _Pasha_."

"Господи! And you like to pretend to be so proper." Chekov teased.

"Alright. So, you want to bet me to win it back. Right?"

"Yes. But I propose a game of skill, rather than one of chance. So you'll _know_ I'm not counting cards."

"So you _admit_ you do that?"

"I admit nothing, Doctor."

Bones rolled his eyes again.

"Alright. You win, you get the bottle back. So what are you putting up?"

"If I lose, I will drop the subject, and we will seal the deal with a kiss."

In the edges of his vision, he could see the looks the others were giving them, and decided to ignore them, letting himself laugh at Chekov's sarcasm.

"Alright. Skill and not chance? Name the game."

"Have you ever heard of Rat Slap?"

*

He learned a few things that night, as it turned out.

One, it turned out that Chekov was a wily fucker, and Bones was half-surprised that he'd come through with his metacarpus intact.

Two? That boy was a _goddamn problem_.

"I'd like it back by the time we reach Yorktown," he smiled, pocketing the cards. He rounded the table then, expression entirely too goddamn smug, and before Bones could even brace himself, Chekov's lips were on his, soft and insistent and -

And he would worry later about the little chorus of _whoop_ ing that passed through the room, as his focus was shot on not chasing Pavel's mouth as he pulled back with a wink.

"There. Never say you didn't get anything out of the deal, Leonichka."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing a tiny bit of havoc with the canon dates of Beyond to make this chapter work.  
> I know that.  
> Let's just pretend Jim and Bones had that drink as more of a quiet New Year's Eve toast than specifically an early birthday thing.
> 
> (Also, "Rat Slap" is another name for "Egyptian Ratscrew", but I couldn't seriously consider those words coming out of Pavel Chekov's mouth.)


	11. 2263.03 (1) - Hikaru (T)

They'd met at orientation, and had bunked together for their first two semesters at the academy. 

Inside of a year, they could have an entire conversation via facial expression.

They'd managed an assignment together – not that they were both supposed to be primary bridge crew, good god, that had been... a horrible sort of luck.

Pavel had been in his wedding party, had seen him married to the light of his life.

(Not that they still didn't kiss, sometimes, as it were. Not that Pavel had never kissed Ben, either. It was, just... what it was. Maybe they were both the lights of his life.)

But the point. The point was that he and Pavel were supposed to be the ones risking life and limb out here. This life was never supposed to threaten Ben and Demora, not like this. Never like this.

It would be another hour before they were ready to try the Franklin's engines, and Pavel had snagged his elbow out in the corridor, pulled him into the alcove of an access hatch, and drew him into the fiercest hug he could place in recent memory, whispering softly.

"I know we will both worry, until we are there. We can do this. We will see them again, Hishkou. We will fix this – we must. This is not your fault."

Pavel hadn't used that nickname in... well, it had been a long time. And not ever on duty, like this.

He thought for a second of the party where Pavel ended up sprawled on an area rug, laughing as he pieced it out...

How long ago had that been? Six years?

They'd seen so much in less than a decade, but in that moment, it felt like so much longer. It felt like forever.

"I shouldn't have brought them out here, Pasha. It was selfish."

"How could you ever know? Now, come on. Let's see to it. We're going to see them again."

And just like that, the moment was over. But maybe, for the time being, it was enough.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you the explanation would show up eventually.


	12. 2263.03 (2) - Scotty (T)

It was just sex.

Right?

Well, sex and friendship.

But it wasn’t as though… well... all the same.

He pushed off of the console, caught Scotty by the shoulder.

"Mitya? When we get through this, we're going to sit down and empty that Scotch together."

 _When_ , not if. _When_ , not _if_.

"You haven't had any yet?"

Pavel was not going to kiss him here, not in front of all of these people, but the sheer indignation that Montgomery Scott could summon at a moment's notice was a special sort of heartwarming.

" _We_ are going to. Count on it."  
  
Without another word, he turned and pelted off in the direction of the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter! But a necessary one.


	13. 2263.04 - Spock (T)

"I have a rather unusual question."

Pavel turned, pulled from observing the impromptu arm-wrestling match that had sprung up over the table in the middle of the room. (Jaylah was winning. She was doing nothing _but_ winning. He wasn't sure how anyone was surprised.)

"Of course, Mr. Spock."

"Do you consider us to be... friends?"

Blinking slowly, Pavel felt his mouth fall open before he could even attempt to pull himself together.

"My apologies. I should perhaps not have been so abrupt."

Pavel shook his head, suddenly unsure about what to do with his hands.

"No, no! I - of course I do. I mean, I... I'm not as close to you as some of the others are, probably, but I would say so. Yes."

"In light of that, a further question."

Ambushed as he felt, it was slowly dawning on Pavel that this was very important to Spock, and so he nodded by way of a response.

"I have had the opportunity over the years to observe a certain regard with which you, specifically, treat your friends. In less formal settings, of course. I have also noticed that you tend not to treat me in quite the same regard, and I found myself curious."

For the first time since childhood, Pavel found himself actually invoking God, Jesus Christ His Only Son Our Lord, and the Blessed Theotokos - he was _casual_ with many of his friends. Surely, the Vulcan wasn’t suggesting...

"Could you elaborate? I mean, what specifically concerned you?"

Spock gave a slight nod.

"Of course. I refer specifically to your... tendency to bestow nicknames. It seems that you take to it with even greater zeal than the Captain, and it caused me to wonder."

"Because I've never given one to you."

"Precisely."

Pavel considered his words carefully, the immediate stab of anxiety beginning to fade.

"To be honest… I thought you would consider it rude. And I prefer not to disrespect my friends."

Spock seemed to contemplate that for a moment, and something finally clicked in Pavel's mind.

"Are you asking me to give you a nickname?"

“I admit that I find the concept… intriguing.”

Pavel nodded again, and did his best not to laugh, lest it be mistaken for mockery.

“Mr. Spock? If you have a drink with me, I would be more than happy to consider it.”

“I accept, though the point may be moot. Alcohol does not affect Vulcans.”

“Then consider it symbolic, perhaps?”

Spock nodded.

“Then I defer to your judgment.”

*

Pavel was focused on the bottom of his glass as he swirled his drink, mumbling syllable sets to himself.

“What was that?”

He glanced across the little table to Spock, who was peering at him keenly, shot glass clutched in his fingers.

“I said… ‘P’shenko’. But that…. I mean, that sounds like a family name-”

Spock was shaking his head.

“No. No, I… think that is a good name. It sounds quite traditional.”

He reached over the table very carefully, and Pavel registered what was happening only as Spock’s hand was on his head, patting him gently.

“I am honored to be your friend, Pasha.”

He tipped the tall shot glass of vodka into his mouth, nodded once, and disappeared off into the little crowd.

Pavel was not oblivious to Vulcan taboos, nor oblivious to the reasons that touch-telepaths might have for avoiding physical contact… nor was he oblivious to the looks people were throwing between him and the direction Spock had walked off in.

"Not that I'd blame you, but what the hell was that about?" Ben asked, leaning in from somewhere to Pavel's left.  
  
Nervous laughter was his only recourse.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S'chin T'gai Spock is a man of strange and complex emotional depths.
> 
> Jaylah is my favorite, though she may not feature too prominently in the rest of the fic, seeing as she'll be away at the Academy for a while.


	14. 2263.35 - Spock, Nyota (T)

_I would like to apologize for my behavior at the Captain’s birthday party. I did not realize the presumptuous nature of asking for a nickname._  
_Further, the physical gesture was meant to be a friendly one - a concept with which I struggle, and something I had merely intended as an experiment. I did not realize that it might embarrass you, as I have seen others do so in familiar company. Again, I can merely apologize, and reiterate that I meant no offense._  
  
Pavel stared at the message, unsure of how to even begin to address it, but knew that he could not simply leave it unanswered.

 _P’shenko -  
_ _There was no offense, simply confusion… considering what touch tends to imply among Vulcans.  
_ _In honesty, I might not object. But of course we can put it behind us, if you wish, and remain friends._ _Will we still be meeting for chess next week?_

  
*  
  
_Are you and Commander Spock still on the outs? Asking for a friend._

The reply came more quickly than he’d really expected.

_We’re still taking a breather, so it’s none of my business._

Pavel nodded, just as a second reply cropped up.

 _I trust you, but tread carefully. He’s a little more breakable than he seems_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who apologizes out of the blue a month later? Get it together, Spock.


	15. 2263.43 - Scotty (E)

They didn't get to see each other much for the first month after the return to Yorktown. Pavel was working on remote credit hours from the Academy, Scotty was busy with the main systems hardware for the new ship... sometimes, life was like that.

The afternoon after his final certification exam, Pavel could finally call up the messenger on his PADD for more than a brief 'hello'.

_Mr. Scott, I believe I owe you a few drinks. Is there any chance of you getting away tonight? Or soon, anyhow._

He was half-dozing twenty minutes later when the responding chime sounded.

_You have the most brilliant timing, Mr. Chekov. Where did you have in mind?_

_Noodle bar near the 12/15 interchange, then back to mine?_

_Brilliant, I tell you. Let's say two hours?_

*

He had to catch himself as he stood from the bench, his feet seeming to forget their purpose.

It wasn't so much that he'd _forgotten_ the beard as Scotty hadn't had one in _years_ , aside from brief instances of scruff after shorter shore leaves.

And _трахнуть меня_ , but it suited him.

"Alright, there?" Scotty grinned, reaching out to help steady him.

"Fine. I'm fine," Pavel grinned back, hoping to high heaven that his blush wasn't as obvious as it felt. "Come on, let's... let's go in and get a table. You probably haven't eaten all day, have you?"

*

He’d missed the beard, but he'd never admit it.

A few months after the Vengeance incident, Scotty had suddenly stopped shaving. He pinned it as too much to be concerned with when he wasn't technically on-duty and there were only so many hours in the day in which to refit a ship, which Pavel understood.

At the time, he'd hated it, though. He'd hated the scrape of it on his thighs, hated how rough it was on his face... until the day it was finally gone, just before relaunch, and he realized he'd grown used to it.

 _Fond_ of it, even.

That maybe he'd _liked_ rubbing his fingers against it when they kissed. That maybe he _missed_ feeling it on his shoulders when Scotty was pressed up behind him, or on his stomach when he'd lean in to press those harsh, biting kisses to his hips...

 _Horrible_.

*

It was a trial, frankly. He was almost convinced that Scotty was doing it on purpose. As if he _knew_.

It was all Pavel could do not to openly gape as Scotty was going over the menu, absently rubbing at his jaw as he scrolled through his options.

They may have been off-duty, but Pavel could not just reach out and do the same here. Not with what would inevitably follow.

"You sure you're alright?" Scotty asked, finally setting the menu down as he punched his order in.

"What's the word you used? Brilliant? I am brilliant, Mitya."

*

For the entire kilometer back to the apartment block (temporary crew housing during the rebuild), into the building, and across the lobby, Pavel let Scotty grill him for details about the courses he'd been powering through... it was nice to be able to talk about it in a broad sense, rather than going ragged over detail memorization.

He'd given up on not-staring as he spoke, though.

As they stepped into the lift and the door slid shut, Scotty finally reached over to run his fingers over the inside of Pavel's wrist, dragging a gasping sigh from him.

"Been a long month, hey?"

"Too long," Pavel whispered back, and grasped his hand for just a moment before the lift doors opened on a corridor, and he led on. "Come on."

The unit's door had only barely clicked shut behind them before Pavel turned and grabbed Scotty by the front of his jacket, dragging him in flush for a kiss, deep and greedy and vicious.

Scotty pressed him back, all but pinning him to the wall before he had a hand up under Pavel's chin, turning his face gently and trailing kisses back along his jaw.

"I thought I was here for drinks, Pasha."

"Then you shouldn't have shown up looking like _this_." Pavel answered, tipping his head to the side, inviting.

"I thought you hated it. I almost shaved before I left," Scotty muttered, seeming to pause for a moment as Pavel caught his breath.

"You know I don't," he gasped, unable to stop the needy, embarrassing _whine_ as that beard dragged along his skin, as Scotty dug his teeth in where Pavel's neck curved into shoulder.

"Aye. But I wanted to hear you say it, finally."

Pavel shifted, moved to slide the jacket down Scotty's shoulders, and off, letting it drop to the floor in a heap.

They stared each other down for a long moment, and Pavel wriggled away finally, pulling his shirt over his head as he crossed the little kitchenette and rounded the corner to his bed.

He tugged his shoes off, threw them towards the closet, and had about enough time to register Scotty's hand pushing into his hair, clutching in for just a moment, just tightly enough to draw a gasp before they were pulling each other down onto the mattress.

*

It was a rare night that they had a chance to go slowly with each other, to pull each other's clothes off little by little, for Scotty to get it in his head to pin Pavel down by his hips and take his sweet time sucking little bruises into his thighs, fingering him open gradually as he went.

It shouldn't have been so good. Pavel _hated_ being made to hold still, _hated_ being made to wait. But this? Being brought down to wrecked whimpering before Scotty even had his pants off?  Матерь Божья.

Scotty was twisting a third finger into him – _so good, please, пожалуйста_ \- and leaning up, pressing a kiss to his right collarbone.

"I could make you come before I fuck you."

A statement, rather than a question.

They'd done that once, and Pavel had been practically sobbing through the overstimulation before it was over.

He shook his head, tempting as the thought was.

"Nye- No. No, I want you in me when I come."

"Say please."

"No," Pavel grinned.

Withdrawing his fingers slowly, Scotty finally got his pants open, shoving them down and kicking them off. He sat up, grinning right back as he pulled Pavel up into his lap.

Pavel would never tire of the kind of harsh, low groan he could draw out of Scotty whenever they did this, whenever he took his cock right down to the base in one slow slide, of the harsh grasp of Scotty's fingers on his hips as he bottomed out.

He kept one arm wrapped over Scotty's shoulder as they moved together, rocking into the slow, deep thrusts.

Licking the palm of his other hand, he reached between their bodies to wrap around his own cock, watching as Scotty's gaze followed the motion, as his hands tightened on Pavel's hips again.

"I forget how much you like to look," he whispered, letting his head tip back as he stroked himself faster, grinning at Scotty burying himself in him as his body tensed.

"Fuck, _Mitya_ ," he whined, come coating his fingers and smearing on their stomachs.

Pavel caught his breath, panting at the sensation of it, of still being stretched and fucked until filled, biting his lip and shivering as Scotty pushed up into him one last time, hard, nails digging into Pavel’s lower back, his moan deep and filthy as he came.

*

"I wasn't too rough, was I?"

Pavel shook his head, gaze still fixed on the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as Scotty's fingers traced the bruise from his teeth.

"No, that was... perfect. Like you said – long month."

He shifted onto his side, reaching over to drag his palm against Scotty's jaw again.

"Are you going to keep it?"

"Now that I know it apparently turns you into a bloody hellcat? Oh, aye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you didn't think I forgot about them?


	16. 2263.48 - Spock (T)

"May I ask a personal question?"

Pavel glanced up from the chess board only for a moment, his hand still hovering between two pieces.

"By all means."

"Perhaps this is impertinent, but you have a rather unusual approach to relationships. Or so I've noticed."

"I'm not entirely sure that _was_ a question," Pavel grinned, considering one of his bishops more carefully.

"I suppose not. I believe I mean to ask the appeal of the way that you seem to form your attachments, such as they are."

Pavel pulled his hand away from the board, and let himself lean back into his chair.

"Forgive me being impertinent, perhaps, but why do you ask?"

"Human society is fascinating, from a somewhat detached perspective. There are people like Nyota, who prefer to remain in singular pair bonds. There are people like Jim Kirk, who don't seem to have real interest in forming them at all. And then there are people like you, who seem to form multiple attachments, but still... enjoy a somewhat carefree approach outside of those. I was simply curious about the appeal."

"That's certainly a polite way of putting it, but I suppose that is what I do. Maybe the easiest answer is that different people need different things. I take it this is an unfamiliar concept?"

"Perhaps not. If I may be so bold?"

Pavel nodded by way of response.

"Traditionally speaking, Vulcans do believe in singular pair bonds, but that is… primarily more of a social contract, strictly for procreative purposes. Emotional expression is taboo, and yet there is a tendency to... seek the company of others for recreation, insomuch as Vulcans would understand. Typically for intellectual pursuits, for artistic expression, things of that nature."

_ Don't mock the Vulcan, don't mock the Vulcan... _

"Chess partners on the side, Poshenko?" Pavel teased.

Spock opened his mouth to speak, closing it suddenly, eyes going wide.

"I apologize for the implication, though conceptually, you would be correct."

Pavel smiled. 

“So in other words, when I can form both... physical and emotional relationships with one person, why do I seek more?"

"In a sense."

Pavel leaned forward for a moment, finally moved a bishop, and sat back again.

"I have trouble staying put, I think. In just about every sense.... and it extends to many parts of my life."

"Elaborate?"

"Ay. Okay. There is so much in this life, even on one planet, and hardly anyone is so restricted anymore. I... care very much for the people I'm close with. But there is still so much to see, and so much to do, and I would hate for anyone to feel as though they... owe me their presence, if they have something to do. I don't think that's unreasonable."

"Even though you enjoy their specific company."

"Even though," Pavel agreed. "And besides as far as... intimacy, I suppose? No two people will be alike. Not because the others are boring, just… there is always something… new. Perhaps I will feel less curious someday, but for now…?”

“Stagnancy bores you, even when you are content?” Spock asked.

“Just so.”

Spock moved a knight, and Pavel felt his recklessness surface again.

“May I ask something bold in return?”

“It seems fair.”

“I know that you do not lie. That there is no logic in it. So you say that… you apologized for the implication. Not that you  _ weren’t _ implying something. Am I incorrect?”

He glanced up from the board to find Spock regarding him with something bordering on open curiosity.

“No, you are not incorrect. But I do appreciate the… complex nature of our situation.”

“I don’t see it as particularly complex, but I’d respect your hesitation.”

“If I speak plainly, will you do me the same courtesy?”

“Absolutely.”

“Professional concerns aside, even if we are all on extended leave until the new ship is completed, it would be naive to ignore the possibility of any liaison becoming an attachment for one of us. Even unintentionally.”

Pavel nodded.

“Well, I understand the worry. You have feelings for Nyota... I would never stand between the two of you reconciling. She means entirely too much to me, and I mean that.”

“I believe that you do.”

“But you are not together  _ now _ , and feelings are feelings, but you want me. Not to be crude.”

“Yes,” Spock answered simply.

“So what is it you want from me? Speaking plainly. I will not be offended.”

“Speaking plainly, I'm not sure. But I know that you intrigue me. Is that enough?”

With another slow nod, Pavel let the smile spread on his face.

“It is a good enough place to start, I think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan Culture Is Kinda Weird: A Whole Novel I'm Not Gonna Write


	17. 2263.79 - Scotty (M)

“Lights, 30%.”

He had been awake for something on the order of 27 hours, on shift for almost 16 of those, and was feeling every minute of it on the grime of his skin, in the ache in his shoulders, in the gaining throb behind his temples.

Faulty parts _happened_. Faulty installations _happened_. He was merely one man, and there was only so much that could be done about others’ margins of error but to mop up the mess himself.

Sometimes literally.

He’d have preferred an actual, honest shower (or a dunk in a fucking barrel, frankly) to a sonic shower, but this was easier than trying to go find one, and then he could just fall over on the mattress.

As he peeled his shirt off, he gave serious consideration to having it incinerated. Instead, he used it to take another swipe at his face and neck before moving onto his fly, shuffling towards the bathroom and -

He paused in the doorway, took three steps back, and glanced at his bed again.

Pavel was curled up on top of the blanket, face hidden in the crook of his elbow.

It was not an unwelcome sight, simply an unexpected one. (For one, he rarely showed up unannounced, and for the other? Scotty couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually seen him asleep. Had he ever?)

He turned back into the bathroom after a moment’s hesitation - he wasn’t going to risk fouling up his own bedding in the state he was in.

*

“Hey. _Hey_.  вставай, Pasha. Come on, sweetheart,” Scotty said quietly, a hand on Pavel’s shoulder to try and at least shift him.

He finally opened his eyes a slice, stretching at the ankles.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I was going to surprise you.”

“And that you have,” Scotty nodded, moving to sit.

“What time is it?”

“08:20. Give or take. I got held up.”

Pavel nodded, helped shift the sheets down so that Scotty could climb in next to him. He did, with a grin, and drew a thumb along Pavel’s cheek as he leaned in for a kiss.

“I have news, and wanted to tell you myself,” Pavel said quietly, not quite making eye contact anymore.

“Alright?”

All of this was very unusual, from Pavel being here to begin with right down to his demeanor.

“The course I completed last month. Remember? Well, the results came through, and there was a… I had an offer to help on a research project. Could turn into something bigger. I’d be… I’d be gone for a while.”

He felt the smile spreading on his face, the little bubble of pride that came with it.

“What have I been telling you all these years? That’s ace, though! How long would you be gone?”

“Cutting close on the launch, I can tell you that. It’s what. Seven months off?”

“Give or take. Depending on how many more hydraulic pumps I have to mop up after, between then and now,” Scotty sighed.

“What?” Pavel asked, brow furrowing ever so lightly.

“It was a _very_  long night.”

After a beat, Pavel’s expression finally softened.

“Oh. _Oh_ , I should have commed. I could have helped y-”

Scotty shook his head.

“None of that. Now, how close to launch? I’m sure you could get clearance to meet back up later, if you run over.”

“Trial’s five months, maybe longer.”

“Oh, that’s plenty of time! Although I will miss you awfully.”

“I haven’t accepted yet.”

“Why _not_? You get to demonstrate your theories, you get to… maybe build something we’ll all be using in three years. What were you talking about? Improvements to padless transport technology, right? Applications of motion tracking? And you didn’t even have to bully your way in. Someone just up and asked you. I mean, don’t go if you don’t want to, but what else is going to be going on here until launch?”

He saw Pavel’s jaw clench for a moment before he finally looked at him.

“And what if I like it there too much?”

Oh. Oh, there it was.

He gathered Pavel’s hands in his, gently, to press kisses to his knuckles.

“Then it’ll bloody fucking break my heart, and I’ll see you on leave.”

“Stop... telling me what I want to hear!”

“It’s the truth.”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I know,” Scotty grinned back against Pavel’s little outrage.

They had shifted, shifted all around, and Pavel was on him, over him, straddling him and grinding down. There was nothing between them but the thin fabric of Pavel’s boxers. He brought his hands up, up over Pavel’s hips to push up under his t-shirt, to drag his fingertips along the smooth skin over his ribs.

Pavel’s hands were on his in an instant, pulling them away, slamming him down by his forearms to pin him to the mattress.

This wasn’t a game they played often, but good lord, when Pavel found the mood…

His body was going to be a catalogue of nail marks and bites and all manner of odd bruises for days, he knew that much before they’d even started, and the thought already had him arching into the contact.

“You know I’ll still be here when you get back. Right?”

“But if I _don’t_ … I just need…”

“I know. It’s okay. Show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pavel doesn't hate him, and they're not really fighting. It's just a little Emotional™.
> 
> And yes, Scotty's picked up a little handful of Russian words over the years.
> 
> (There's roughly ten more chapters in this fic, but this is as angsty as it's ever going to get. Promise.)
> 
> ("What does Scotty mean about Pavel not having to 'bully his way in'?" Well, dubiously canon as it is, according to the novel _Kobayashi Maru_ by Julia Ecklar, Scotty more or less had to force his way out of command school and into the engineering track. It's worth the read just for that, but the whole book is a delight.)


	18. 2263.192 - Pavel (G)

This was a mistake.

Well, alright - the _research_ was worthwhile.

There was something to be said for less than half a year’s work being pivotal in the future of both transport and replication technology.

There would be something to be said for having his name fourth on the title page or the documentation that would come out of all of it.

(He didn’t keep an ego about these things, but it would make his grandmother’s year.)

The team and the actual outpost were some form of karmic retribution for thinking he’d ever have it better than with the crew waiting for him back on Yorktown, though. Of that much, he was absolutely certain...

He just had to make it two more months.

Two more months in what was essentially an underground bunker in a tundra, back to square one with strangers about his accent, about his age (even now), about his actual expertise.

And sure, there would be missed crew nights, as the years wore on. He knew that.

But he had not been out of atmosphere since he landed, had not been able to tempt his companions into strange bets on odd terms... had, it turned out, very little patience for simply twiddling his thumbs while waiting for code to compile, and was very quickly realizing that the world of experimental academia was not the place for him.

*

It was somehow made a little more difficult by the little box that had arrived for him a month prior.

The trinkets weren't marked, but he'd only had to guess on a few of them.

There was a tiny vial full of iris petals - the vial itself was from one of Hikaru's old specimen kits. He'd recognize the stopper anywhere.

The drawings were Demora's work, clearly - some too abstract to identify, some of the puppy she had finally coerced Ben and Hikaru into. One in particular, he could only interpret as a suggestion that he should beam himself home, and that made him well and truly tear up.

The little plasticine sheet at the bottom of the box had, when he figured out its purpose, loaded a few dozen songs onto the audio program on his PADD. Some were familiar, some not; some would run little messages over his screen, and others simply played. It felt like Nyota's handiwork, though not all of the songs were to her usual taste.

There was a second vial, this time of an amber liquid, something sharp and alcoholic, and he was unsure as to whether he should pin that on Scotty or on McCoy.

The final item was a small cloth pouch with... well. This one, he did not need to guess. He'd have known Scotty's class ring anywhere.

It wasn't a declaration. Not in  _that way_ \- it wouldn't have been his style.

It wasn't even a request to return. It was simply a well-wish. A profound token, but a token nonetheless. (Too big to fit anywhere but his right thumb, though. He'd ended up having to find a cord for it.)

Perhaps it all made the time pass more slowly, reminding him of what he was lacking, and yet?

Everyone had gone to so much trouble to send him a little piece of home away from home... leaving early would ruin the little spark of magic in that.

*

The tray dropping across from him pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up at the woman sitting down across from him.

“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes. You mind if I sit here?”

Pavel looked around the otherwise-empty cafeteria, shrugging with a grin.

"I guess not. Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you. Chekov, right? I’m Christine Chapel - I was in medical during the Narada incident. Len mentioned you were headed out my way."

She held out her hand, and Pavel shook.

“I’m sorry for not recognizing you. What have you been doing since?”

“Oh, this and that. I started in physical therapy, so I ended up helping Pike through his, and afterward I decided, you know. Time to see the frontier, but maybe under some slightly more stable conditions,” she said, unrolling cutlery from a napkin.

“S, how does physical therapy get you into a teleport research program?”

“Oh, no, I’m not an engineer," she laughed. "I’m here as an application consultant.”

She leaned in, wiggling her eyebrows conspiratorially

“Alright. Now, I want you to think about something - you’re apparently some kinda genius, right? Okay. So you have pinpoint transport tech, right? And tractor beams so advanced, we don't even have ships that could really sustain them. And then, advanced matter replication protcols. Now... what would you use all three of those for, together? And what would they need a physical therapist to consult for?”

After furrowing his brow for a moment, Pavel finally looked up in shock.

"о мой Бог! \- are you telling me that Dr. Toyofuku is _here_?”

Christine laughed.

“Not at the moment - she comes and goes a bit.”

Pavel held his hands over his mouth in delight for a moment before he gave over to laughter.

“Oh, I can’t believe this! Keenser is going to be so jealous!”

“Well, now, it’s not the only thing the research is going towards. Just one application. But... tell you what. You know anything about sparring? Martial arts? Boxing, maybe?”

Pavel made a vague hand gesture.

“I can fight? If forced?”

Christine shrugged.

“Alright, so I’m gonna teach you, and _then_ I’ll see if I can get you clearance. But first? Lunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Star Trek were real, I would die on an actual battlefield for Christine Chapel, and I will never forgive the folks responsible for Into Darkness for treating her like a disposable girlfriend so long as I live.
> 
> Therefore, she's now a highly capable physical therapist who could probably kick your ass directly into the dirt.
> 
> (She's also literally the only person alive who refers to Leonard McCoy as "Len".)
> 
> Also, I do not know who was canonically responsible for the invention of the holodeck.  
> I do know that a woman named Melanie Toyofuku was the person who introduced Majel Barett and Gene Roddenberry to Gene Dolgoff, though, so this chapter is also my little shout-out to her.


	19. 2263.255 - Scotty (E)

He glanced down at the little numbers on his comm again, forcing himself into another burst of speed. If he hurried, he’d be able to make it down to main engineering in time to -

\- ram face-first into someone’s chest as he rounded the corridor to the turbolift, sending them both stumbling as the little bloom of pain spread over his vision.

“Would you watch where you’re bloody well - Pasha?”

As Pavel blinked away the stars, he felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him all over again.

“Since when do you wear dress grays for wiring work?” he asked, catching his breath, stepping in close before he could think. They weren’t touching, not yet, but simply sizing each other up.

“I don’t. There was an inspection, and - and you’re not supposed to be back until next week! What happened?”

“Nothing. I finished, I got clearance, I left my documentation, and…”

“Didn’t like it that much, huh?” Scotty smiled, gently.

“Five months, no scrapes with death? It was awful. And besides, I would have missed…” Pavel grinned, dragging his gaze down Scotty’s body meaningfully. “And I can’t believe you actually kept the beard.”

He sighed, relaxing into the touch as Scotty brought a hand up to rest against his cheek. For just a moment, Pavel was lost to it.

"Я скучал по тебе." Scotty whispered. It didn’t matter that his accent was a little bit off. It didn’t -

Pavel leaned up, wrapped his arms around Scotty's neck, and answered that soft smile with a kiss full of five long, lonely months of absence, of all of the untidy _longing_ he’d been harboring the entire time he’d been gone.

*

It would be a long-range telescopy lab, once the build was complete.

Just now, though?

Just now it was a sealable room, quiet and out of the way, empty but for the two of them tugging each other’s clothes open.

He’d been bent over a lab table, pushing back eagerly into the thrusting, moaning into the sensation of fingernails grasping at the skin of his hips, half-dazed and giddy on it and only about halfway to coming when Scotty finished.

“Fuck. Fuck! Sorry,” he groaned, pushing rough through the last thrusts, and Pavel could only laugh.

“Don’t apologize, it’s -” he gasped, arching at the sensation of Scotty pulling out. “What-?”

He was being turned around, pressed back to the counter edge, and he watched as Scotty sank to the floor with a wink.

Later, he’d roll that image over in his mind again and again - Scotty on his knees, uniform an absolute disheveled mess, hair out of place where Pavel grasped at it, lips stretched wide as he sucked.

As it was, he was too lost to it, convinced his knees were going to give out, whimpering at the press of Scotty’s tongue and the clench of his throat.

And like that, with Scotty swallowing and groaning around him, he came so hard that he had stars across his vision again.

*

“I can’t stay,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Scotty’s cheek.

They were slumped on the floor, clothes about as readjusted as they were likely to be.

“Wham, bam, thank you ma’am?”

The jibe was lighthearted, and Pavel smiled.

“A little bit - I promised Demora I would be there for dinner."

"Ahh, now there's seniority I can't override. Far be it from me to keep you," Scotty nodded.

"You should come," Pavel said, after a pause. "If you want, I mean. You'd be welcome."

"Are you sure that wouldn’t be intruding?"

Pavel shook his head, and reached up to trace his fingers through Scotty's beard.

"They always make too much food. Besides, how often were you actually off the ship while I was gone?"

"Do I get to change, first?"

"Oh, I suppose," Pavel teased, feigning annoyance.

He leaned over to reach for his pack, and dug in the side pouch for a moment.

"Here. Before I forget - I brought it back to you."

His finger finally caught on the length of cord he was searching for, and he used it to draw the ring out.

Scotty was very quiet for a moment, not moving to accept.

"That was a gift."

Pavel looked between him and the ring, trying to figure out what to say.

"Are you sure?"

"It was a gift, and there was a chance you'd never come back. Far as I'm concerned, it's yours now."

He opened his mouth to speak, unsteadily. He wasn't even sure that he'd be able to articulate himself in Russian at that moment, but surely -

Scotty's hands were on him then, on his shoulder and on his face as a steadying gesture before anything else, and his tone was as gentle as his touch.

"I'm not asking for anything. Not a single different thing. I'm telling you that I'm here, same as I've always been, as long as you'll have me. That sound alright?"

Pavel nodded slowly. He felt like he was going to collapse into base molecules, if such a thing were possible, as though he might be whisked away on the breathy laugh he let out.

"Yes. Yes, I think that sounds alright."

His hands were shaking as he pulled back slightly, drawing the cord over his head, dropping the ring under his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAXIMUM EMOTIONS


	20. 2263.277 - Spock (E)

His pants were open, shoved halfway down his thighs that were already aching from holding the position, back braced against the wall. He stroked himself slowly, steadily, his teeth clenched on his bottom lip.

With his free hand he kept his shirt tugged up - they didn’t have much time today, could merely avoid a mess, if possible.

“Tell me.”

Spock’s hands were braced on the wall, either side of his head, but they did not touch - not at the mouth, not their legs, not the simplest brush of their arms or fingers. Those were the rules, for now.

“Will you touch me today?”

“No. Tell me.”  
  
Always that calm, even tone of voice, somehow making it all the filthier.

“Alright. I want… I want your hands in my hair. I want you to… put me on my knees, to - to drag your thumbs over my lips? To hold my jaw open while you fuck my mouth.”

“Even if it gagged you?”

“Especially.”

“Do you enjoy that?”

“Yes… боже, _yes_.”

“Is that all?”

“I'd want to be a mess. Want to taste you. Want your come on my face, and your - and your hands wrapped around my neck.”

“Why?”

“It’s frightening. I like it. I can’t explain.”

“Because stagnancy bores you.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes.”

“And if I told you to stop?”

Spock’s gaze seemed to be fixed on his throat, seemed to follow the bob of it as he swallowed.

“I’d do it anyway,” Pavel whispered.

He quickened the pace with his hand, slick and needy and desperate, so desperate, just from the way Spock _looked_ at him.

“Then do it anyway,” Spock whispered, leaning in right next to his ear.

He whimpered as the feeling peaked, as he felt his thighs cramping with the effort, as -

There was no stopping the wail he let out as he tensed, as he hit that crest, as Spock dragged a single fingertip down the column of his neck, and he came over his own fingers, splattered against his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has probably only been going on since Pavel returned from abroad.
> 
> Doesn't mean there weren't any dirty comms, though.


	21. 2263.285 - Interlude: Scotty, Bones (T)

Apparently, he wasn't the only one early for the transport.

Bones dropped onto the bench next to Scotty, uncapped his flask, and held it out in offering.

"You get roped into vacation, too, huh?"

"I'm still waiting to hear how our illustrious leader managed to frame this as a 'team building exercise'," Scotty grinned.

He accepted, swigged from, and handed the flask back, eyes never leaving the screen of his PADD.

They sat quietly, passing the flask back and forth every few minutes, until a thought crossed Bones' mind.

"Alright. Now, feel free to call me a presumptuous ass, but you gotta help me out with something."

"You're a presumptuous ass."

"Okay, I walked into that. But seriously. How do you and Chekov... I mean. Not exactly traditional, what you have going on."

"Not to speak for him, but I don't think he does 'traditional', with anyone," Scotty chuckled out.

"Just a little surprising."

Scotty finally blanked the PADD's screen and raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips together for a moment to try and hide his smirk.

"What, I should waste my time working myself into a twist over it, and deprive myself and the crew of such fine gems of gossip as, say," Scotty looked directly at him, "winning his scotch back and scamming a kiss out of you in one fell swoop?"

It took a long moment for Bones to find his words.

"I lost that bet fair and square."

"Whatever makes you feel better. He's crafty, that one," Scotty shrugged, grinning, rolling his eyes, passing the flask back again. "What are you actually asking me right now?"

"Just trying to understand."

"The lad likes flirting with you, I don't blame him. What more is there to understand?"

"I'm sorry, _and you don't blame him_?" Bones chirped, whipping around in a double take.

Gesturing airily, Scotty shrugged again.

"Oh, like you've never thought about it," he teased. "As though we've never woken up in a heap, how many times now?"

Bones had to chuckle down into the flask, hoping to high hell he wasn't blushing.

"Now, don't go stringing me along, Mr. Scott. I'm a delicate soul."

"Well, Doctor, you're in luck. I've been described as 'gentle, but through'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, yeah, did I not mention? Bones and Scotty have been drinking buddies for years now." - me, probably


	22. 2263.287 - Jim (M)

It was difficult to say exactly how they'd gotten here.

Well. Okay, maybe not.

Collective crew transport, group shore leave to Risa while work finished on the ship (" _Especially_ you, Mr. Scott, you can obsess over details when we get back.")... a few slow, too-sunny afternoons... finding himself in a louder club just after third moonrise with one half of the helm crew, who had been attempting to charm his way through an attentive trio (trio! Go, Pavel!) of purple-skinned folks whose species Jim couldn't quite pin down.

Which had turned into Jim responding to Pavel's wave, and wandering over with an improbably large drink in hand.

Which had turned into... well.

Which had turned into the two of them pacing each other on shots.

Which had turned into a long talk about old Earth music.

Which had turned into Pavel singing along to the music on the speakers above them, and Jim joining in...

And jesus _CHRIST_ , had turned into Pavel climbing into Jim's lap, holding a shot to his lips, and tipping it back for him. Jim couldn't have brought himself to break eye contact as he swallowed if he  _tried_.

"Ensign, do you know the meaning of 'bad idea'?" he asked, leaning up to speak into Pavel's ear.

He felt the roll of the laughter in Pavel's chest against his own, as Pavel wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and pressed closer to him.

"Yes, _Captain_ , and we are where we are, and I'm choosing to ignore it."

Pavel was pressing down into him, dragging his lips along his neck, and Jim had to force himself to remember how _words_ worked.

"If we're doing this, you can't... call me that."

"And what should I say, then? Hm? Jim? _James_?"

Taking leave of his senses completely, then, he brought his hands up to rest on Pavel's hips, and was _certainly not_ grinding up against him.

"No," Pavel went on, "Hmm. James... Iakov... Yasha... _Yashhhka_..."

The idea of Pavel groaning his name like that, with perhaps less clothes on, where they were less likely to be seen, was almost too goddamned much.

He was finding the words, trying to memorize how Pavel's face looked, cheeks flushed-pink with a blissed-out expression...

...when the ensign pushed away, without warning, and stood up.

"What-"

Pavel leaned back in with a smirk.

"I think... that is enough. We are here all week, yes? You can come find me again, if you want to."

It was audacious. It was a  _delight_.

"You're a menace."

"Takes one, I think, to know one? Goodnight... _Yashka_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Are there no fraternization regulations in place in this fic?" Yeah, but I mean, Spock and Uhura have been openly dating for at least 5 years by now, so I decided I didn't care.


	23. 2263.288 - Interlude: Nyota, Gaila (T)

She’d been checking her comm in the mornings, just to be sure, but otherwise, this had been the laziest week of her life in over five years.

Seeing Gaila step off of the transport had been…

It hadn’t (just) been longing. Hadn’t (just) been desire.

It had been a warmth in her chest, a feeling of… home.

Maybe it was a realization. Maybe that’s why it had been so easy.

Maybe that’s why she wasn’t worrying about anything but here and now, as she reached out to rest her fingertips against Gaila’s shoulder blade.

Real. This was real.

She slid in closer, pressing up behind Gaila, wrapping an arm around her waist, and let herself smile at Gaila’s sleepy little hum.

Life, and the future, and everything else could wait for a while.

Nyota Uhura was in love.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you she'd be back.


	24. 2263.288 - Bones (T)

"Please tell me you have some kind of sunblock on."

Not even opening his eyes, Pavel grinned, wiggling his toes in the sand.

"Doctor, I spent the summer in a blizzard. It's a miracle I even have _shorts_ on."

"You about to tell me skin cancer was invented in Russia?"

There was a small _whump_ in the sand next to him.

"Ice baths after a sauna? Absolutely. Sunbathing? Sadly, no."

"Well, mark that as a first.”

Pavel let the silence drag out, listening to the crash of the waves, before he spoke.

“I met your friend Christine, when I was away.”

“Yeah, she mentioned. Said you’re a scrappy little bastard, too. Not that I’m surprised.”

“She’s a good friend. And a marvelous fighter,” Pavel grinned, and finally turned his head and looked up. He'd rarely seen McCoy out of uniform, let alone so relaxed; he wondered for a moment how much was genuine, and how much of it was down to the lighter clothes, but either way, it suited him.

He pushed himself up to sitting, let himself watch McCoy staring out at the water.

"What is that necklace?" he asked quietly, gaze dropping to the little medallion just-visible at McCoy's neckline.

"Hm? Oh. Would you believe that I don't know? It was my grandmother's."

"It looks like a saint medal," Pavel commented. "Was she religious?"

McCoy shrugged.

"Not so far as I knew. She said she found it in a vintage shop, and it had her name on it."

McCoy laughed at his questioning expression.

"It says 'Myra' on the back," he explained.

"Myra... may I?"

Moving to undo the chain, McCoy shrugged, dropping it into Pavel’s open palm.

"Don't see why not."

Pavel couldn't help but laugh as he turned the disc over in his fingers, tapping a fingernail against the little figure on the front face.

"What?"

"The universe has a good sense of humor sometimes, Doctor," Pavel smiled, handing it back. " _Hagios Nikólaos_. He was bishop of Myra. It's a little stylized, but..."

"Saint... Nicholas? Like Santa Claus?"

Pavel shrugged.

"Sort of... he's the basis of the story, but that's not really why it's funny."

McCoy cocked an eyebrow by way of asking as he put it back on.

"Patron saint of sailors and pharmacists. It fits."

"So _you're_ religious?"

"No," Pavel smiled, "but my grandmother was."

"Go figure."

They sat in peaceable silence for a few minutes, sounds of the waves once again settling around them, until Pavel took a sidelong glance at the sun's position in the sky.

He glanced back over at McCoy, ponderous for a long moment. He didn't have his comm with him, and hated to be presumptuous, but how often did one have the chance...

"Do you have plans tonight, Doctor?"

McCoy raised both of his eyebrows as he answered.

"Pavel, we are on vacation. Stop calling me 'Doctor'."

**

It would have been just as easy to ask. But then, Bones was curious to actually _see_ where all this would lead, left to Pavel’s devices.

As it stood, it led to stopping off so that Pavel could "change into dinner clothes" (see also: putting a shirt on and calling it a day), then meeting up with Scotty for a good little meal, a few drinks, and easy conversation as the afternoon rolled slowly into the late part of sundown.

When the plates had finally been cleared away, Pavel cleared his throat, glancing between the two of them with some kind of restrained, giddy delight.

"Now, nobody is obligated to anything. I promise. But I have a little surprise planned, and it can be for all of us. If you want."

Bones regarded Pavel carefully for a moment, taking in his hopeful expression. (Remembering _that kiss_.)

He glanced to Scotty slowly, who was looking back, expression... curious, but welcoming.

It had been a damn long time since he'd been looked at – really _looked at_ – like that, like either of them were.

And fuck, but he'd missed it.

He dragged his gaze back to Pavel, sighing.

"So, what are we talking about, exactly?"

Pavel was biting his lip, and took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Have either of you ever heard of Omicron Nectar?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pavel and I have shockingly similar views on the necessity of clothes in hot weather.
> 
> *
> 
> (This chapter and chapter 25 are technically all the same chapter, but I wanted to break it up slightly so that people could skip the smut if they wanted.)


	25. 2263.288-289 - Bones, Scotty (E)

The attendant set the tray down on the low table – a stoppered, etched bottle of pale purple liquid, somewhat less than a liter, surrounded by tiny, colorful glasses – and backed out of the booth with a warm smile, drawing the curtains behind themself.

Well. It was less a booth than a small room, with thick cushions strewn everywhere.

The carpeting was as heavy here as it had been all the way down the hall, and he was strangely aware of his toes sinking into the texture of it.

The curtain was surely just for show – there was likely a noise-dampening field at work.

Bones leaned down, sat his shoes just under the edge of the table, and reached for one of the little glasses, taking a careful sniff.

It was something floral, though not a scent he could immediately identify.

He paused for a moment, the drink not quite to his lips.

"Wait."

He stepped over, ducking slightly to answer Pavel’s questioning look with a slow, easy kiss.

It was less for anyone’s sake but his own, something grounding, something before they dove in.

A delighted, gentle gasp was Pavel's only response as they pulled apart.

Scotty was stepping in close, now, and Bones turned slowly, their mouths sliding together just as easily, and it finally felt real.

He’d missed it, all this needy recklessness.

This was real, this was happening, and when he could breathe again, he huffed out a laugh and tipped the drink back into his own mouth.

It sang light and honey-sweet on his tongue, thick and warm in his throat as he swallowed, and he breathed out at the sensation, his smile easier than he could remember it feeling in years.

"Alright. Now, how fast does this stuff kick in?

**

They drank, and drank again, and the music was heavy around them in the warm air.

Pavel twisted between them slowly, between their mouths for sweet, deep kisses that tasted like lokum, between the way their hands felt like heavy sunshine gliding on his skin.

He could watch out of the corner of his eye as they kissed over his shoulder, catch a glimpse of the dark sound wave that glimmered between their mouths, sigh as they all sunk that much further into the cushions.

And then it was all skimming, skidding, the shifting of clothes against skin, and more skin, slick touches between his legs, slipping, spreading - it was only just their fingers, and he was already half-ruined and whimpering with it.

The pleasure was rolling through him in slow, splendid waves as their bodies wound together and he closed his eyes, lost himself completely to the revel of touch and feel and the aching, heavy sway of it.

**

Waking up without that little stab of a headache he associated with a night of heavy drinking was odd, but not unwelcome.

Waking up with Pavel curled up to his chest was unusual, but a rare delight.

Waking up with Leonard’s face pressed to his shoulder and arm slung over his waist… was actually not all that unusual, though they both typically had more clothes on when it happened.

He was attempting to figure out how to wriggle out from under them without disturbing them, but was saved the trouble when he felt Leonard shift behind him.

“I don’t feel like a wreck.”

“Why does that sound like a complaint?” Scotty grinned.

“Don’t like it. Feels suspicious.”

He felt Leonard’s lips more deliberately press to his shoulder, a small, cautious kiss, before he moved to sit up.

“So. Am I supposed to… oh, I dunno. Do people still buy each other breakfast?”

As Scotty chuckled at that, Pavel opened his eyes, breathing in deeply, but he didn’t move as he spoke, tone groggy.

“What are you laughing about?”

“The good doctor wants to know if you’re hungry, Pasha.”

"Да! я голоден, Леоничка," the dramatic affectation obvious even if his meaning was not.

“What’s that, now?” Leonard yawned.

Scotty watched Pavel pushed himself up on one elbow, blinking slowly, smile widening as he glanced over towards Leonard.

“I said yes. And that your hair looks ridiculous,” Pavel teased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does Omicron nectar taste like? I'd say somewhere between an elderflower liqueur, a violet liqueur, and a mead, but not precisely like any of those three things on their own.  
> (And for the sake of clarity, none of those are hallucinogenic. At least, not in my experience.)
> 
> The Omicron Nectar itself is a reference to Omicron pod plants from the TOS episode "This Side of Paradise".
> 
> *
> 
> A note for returning readers: I have just realized that I left a fairly crucial portion off of the end of chapter 19 (when I was copying it from the document, most likely), which would have likely led to some heavy confusion in chapter 26. You might want to go check that out before the next update.


	26. 2263.290 - Jim (E)

Pavel narrowed his eyes as his comm chimed twice in quick succession, and he let himself finish his bite of food before he even pulled it from his pocket.

The first message was a simple - if incredibly specific - string of coordinates, while the second read simply:

_You, me, a little lube and a safe word? If you’re still game, of course._

Pavel glanced back up at the coordinates, recognizing them as far enough inland that he’d need to find a transport hub.

He nearly tapped _Weren’t you supposed to find me?_ , but paused before sending it, huffed out a sigh.

 _When?_  he asked, instead.

*

The gallery was actually fairly busy... not that Pavel was shocked. The afternoon was sweltering - some sort of minor glitch in the planetary climate control - and this particular building was spectacularly cool in comparison.

Which still didn’t explain the fact that they were meeting in a _museum_. 

Pavel looked around the gallery before glancing at his comm again. These were the specific coordinates, and he was -

“Right on time, Ensign!”

He turned slightly, just in time for Kirk to catch him by the elbow.

“Come on - _this_ is actually pretty neat. You remember the other night, you were talking about... musical notation, right? Well, they have one of the only extant examples of the old Rigellan synesthetic-form gloss that have ever been displayed off-world.”

He let himself be pulled along, let Kirk lead him around a corner to a long glass display module.

“I - what, intact?” he asked. 

He was overcome for a moment, for two, for three, gazing down a little bit slackjawed at the strange shift of the airy formae gliding over the surface.

“Like I said. Neat, right?”

Nodding, Pavel stepped along slowly, not daring to even touch the glass enclosure.

“Yes. This is… oh, the holograms don’t do it justice. Though I must admit, this is not what I was expecting,” he grinned, glancing back as Kirk stepped along with him.

“Well, this is what people do, right?,” Kirk shrugged, smile bright and impish, leaning in close enough that his voice was barely more than a warm murmur, lost in the babble of sound in the room. “Pretend to look at some interesting things, make a little show of polite bashfulness, and spend an hour talking about _nothing_ before they get to drop the act.”

It was difficult not to burst out laughing.

“When have you _ever_ cared what other people do?”

“Well, I have a hard time believing you could ever talk about _nothing_ … and I knew this was something you’d wanna see,” he shrugged again, hands in his pockets now.

Oh, he was good.

Not that Pavel had ever believed Kirk to be an unkind man, but if that little hint of softness wasn’t genuine, he was an _astoundingly_ good salesman.

“It certainly is… incredible,” Pavel nodded again. “I honestly never thought I’d see one in real life. Thank you.”

He turned his head slightly, looking up at Kirk over his shoulder and affecting a sarcastic little moue.

“You won’t actually make me wait through an hour of _nothing_ , will you?”

**

Jim Kirk was not a religious man.

He had trouble ascribing the motions of the universe to anything but the great, messy flow of life itself, and he had almost no truck whatsoever with the concept of prayer when personal action could do a whole lot more.

Having said that?

He was willing to lay a little piece of gratitude at the feet of whatever force was responsible for the mood Pavel Chekov was in that afternoon.

They finally ducked into a bar near the hotel, the place bustling with people attempting to keep out of the unusual heat.

They squeezed up to the bar, Pavel leading the way, and Jim finally felt his earlier spark of nervousness melt away. He let himself get carried away on Pavel’s impulsive whimsy, leaned into the feeling of Pavel pressing back against him as he ordered, bracing a hand against the bar.

The drink was something Nausicaan called Klaaqt, a word that didn’t quite translate as anything other than itself (and frankly, neither did the flavor). 

Pavel ordered a second round, then turned, stopping Jim before he could take the shot.

“You have two choices.”

“Do I, now?”

“Yes. Always. Now, we can have this drink, and we can walk away. It’ll just be… a funny afternoon. Something we can laugh about, as friends.”

“And door number two?”

“We can have this drink, then we’re going to find out if you can back up all that… bravado,” Pavel smirked.

Jim smiled back. He moved in, pressing his thigh just-so between Pavel’s barely-spread legs as he reached for his drink, grinding in ever so slightly as he swallowed.

He leaned down, lips barely a whisper against Pavel’s jaw.

“Then take your drink, and let’s see just how flexible you are. _Pasha_.”

**

There were three things Pavel would be able to say, definitively, about that afternoon.

The first was that bathroom stalls in Risan bars were nearly unsettlingly clean.

Second, that Klaaqt kicked in with a vengeance about ten minutes after you expected it to.

Third? Third, that Kirk was _filthy_ , and it was incredible.

None of it was particularly new, per se.

That is, until he was coming over Kirk’s fingers, gasping out that little nickname barely above a whisper, _sweet Yashka_ … and an instant later, those same fingers were pressed against Pavel's lips. (Not with force, not as a demand, just - pressing.)

He opened his mouth eagerly, licking, sucking, tasting, and squirming with absolute delight at the _rudeness_ of it all, groaning around those fingers as Kirk came in him, mouth pressed to Pavel’s shoulder and teeth not quite breaking skin.

He pulled his hand away after a moment, clearly catching his breath.

“We still gonna be able to laugh about this as friends?” Kirk asked after a very long pause, smile evident in his voice, and Pavel practically giggled as they moved apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request! Do any of you lovely readers speak Russian as a first language, or even fluently? I need help with translating a line for chapter 28, and would appreciate any help you could give me!
> 
> I can be found [here on tumblr](https://hoverboardbandit.tumblr.com); thank you in advance if you can help out!
> 
> *
> 
> I very literally wrote almost twelve different versions of this chapter. Jim Kirk is difficult to pin down when he's not the main character.
> 
> *


	27. 2263.290 - Nyota, Gaila (T)

Nyota drained her little coffee cup, and set it down gently. She rested her fingertips gingerly on the tabletop, the delight in her eyes obvious.

"Alright... Now don't hate me, but I have a surprise."

If she had smiled so widely and open in the past year, Pavel couldn't remember it. He caught the glance she shot past him a bare instant before he felt the hands gripping on his shoulders from behind.

"Did you miss me, Casanova?"

He pulled from the touch, stood, turning on his heel, eyes wide as he laughed out in Russian - "Я не могу в это поверить!"

Gaila tugged him into a fierce, gracelessly tight hug, which he returned with gusto.

"Oh, you poor thing. You never got any taller," she laughed, ruffling his hair as they pulled away. There was something strange in her expression, but only for a moment.

"Have you been inland? Nobody's seen you this whole time," Pavel asked, glancing back at Nyota as she came around the café table.

Gaila raised her eyebrows dramatically, grimacing towards Nyota in fake apology before she dropped her voice.

"We... haven't gone much of anywhere."

It took an instant for him to understand, and Pavel gasped in mock scandal, clutching a hand to his heart.

"Nyoshka, how could you! But she and I were in love!"

"Oh, I know!" Nyota tutted, mocking right back, leaning in next to him and wrapping her arm over his shoulders for a hug. "Poor, poor Pasha. Three boyfriends that I know of, _and_ you're running around with my ex. I can't imagine how you'll ever get by."

He affected a sob for a moment before he broke into bright laughter, shifting into the hug.

"I say we find somewhere good to dance."

"I say Pavel has excellent ideas," Gaila agreed.

*

Gaila shimmied through the press of bodies to where Pavel leaned against the bar, nursing down some water and catching his breath.

"You know that I would never judge," she grinned, leaning back next to him and slinging an arm around his neck.

"But you might scold me?" he joked back.

"Jim _Kirk_?" she sighed. "Honestly, Pasha, you reek like him."

He grimaced, rolling his eyes by way of a response.

"I can handle myself, thank you. And how did you do that? I showered!"

"It lingers."

"Why, are you jealous?" he teased.

"He broke my heart, but no. I just worry about you. And what about this one?" She reached out, tapping a fingernail against the ring that hung over the front of his shirt on its cord. "When do I get to meet him?"

"Tomorrow night? Yes, tomorrow is the party. You'll like him, I think. He is even funnier than me. Ben, too."

"And you are happy?"

He could only laugh at that.

"I am _stupendous_."

"In another life, I think that you would have made an excellent Orion, Pavel Chekov," she smiled.

"It would get Dr. McCoy to leave me alone about sitting in the sun all day, I'll grant you that."

"You aren't really jealous of Nyota, are you?"

"No. I've never seen you both so happy, Galina."

Her smile broke impossibly wide, and she leaned in to whisper to him.

"I put my transfer request in, last month. I'm coming back up with you all when you go. It's time."

"Does she know?"

Gaila nodded, and her giggle proved all too infectious.

The sound of Nyota's laughter drew his gaze just as Gaila swooped in to press a tiny kiss to his cheek, just in time for him to see Nyota snapping a picture of them with her comm.

"Couple of cute brats, I swear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothin' but fluff over here.


	28. 2263.291 - ???? (M)

"Party" was, perhaps, a strong word.

It was the last night before the transport back to Yorktown, but the first night they'd all been in one place that whole week - nothing but bottles of wine and strange liquors passed around as they sat in the sand, falling back into step with each other after the long, scattered months as the new ship was completed.

Pavel sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Scotty (who was leaning away slightly, engrossed in some obscure, in-joke word game with Nyota, Spock, and McCoy - Gaila was watching, attempting to discern the rules) while he passed a bottle of wine back and forth with Ben and Hikaru as they talked about the hike they'd been on through the mountains, showing him pictures of some old temple ruins they'd gotten to explore.

It was coming up on second moonrise when Kirk, who had more or less been silently lounging, sat up suddenly, shaking the sand from his hair, focusing with one eye to stare directly at Pavel.

"Alright. No. I'm calling your ass out."

Pavel shifted, turning to face him more directly.

"Hardly necessary. You've seen my ass out, Captain," he deadpanned, smirking as Kirk nodded slowly, fighting to keep his serious expression.

"Everyone's got one. Pasha... Yasha... Nyoshka, Leonichka, Hishkou? Yeah. And P'shenko and Galina, and Mitya. Right?" he asked, more or less pointing at everyone in order.

Pavel raised an eyebrow, accepting the wine back from Hikaru.

"Very well-remembered."

"Okay! Well, stick with me now. What if Pike hadn't retired? Right?"

"If Pike hadn't retired, I _knew better_ than to try anything like that!"

"No, come on! Come _on_ , Pasha. Come _onnnn_ ," Kirk practically whined, more for dramatic effect than anything.

A few of the rest of them joined in with the good-natured taunting, and Pavel let himself laugh, let himself slur out a quiet, almost-musical chain of syllables as he grinned into a lazy sip from the bottle.

"Слишком много усилий! я бы просто сосал его член."

Nyota was the only one to react, just about spitting right back into her glass before she burst out laughing.

"What - what's that mean?" Jim asked, eyes wide at Nyota, who answered with nothing but a waved hand, slumping against Gaila as she snickered.

Pavel rolled his eyes, cleared his throat, and spoke up, shrugging dismissively.

"I said, in a perfect world, I might have called him Серебряная Лиса."

Spock squinted slowly in concentration. "Silver... fox?"

The collective jeering rose again (with the odd comment of agreement), and Pavel could feel the panicked blush rising on his face.

"Since when do you speak Russian?" Bones asked, inadvertently voicing Pavel's own thoughts.

"Long enough, Doctor," Spock answered with a raised eyebrow, his glance darting towards Pavel for the barest instant.

"Well, I mean, he's not wrong," Ben muttered, and the look of betrayal on Hikaru's face would become the stuff of legend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pavel Suddenly Realizes That Spock Probably Understood The One Super Raunchy Thing He Kept Moaning In Russian The First Time They Hooked Up: A Choose-Your-Own-Especially-Nasty-Kink Adventure
> 
> **
> 
> Pavel's first comment in Russian went through about nineteen different iterations before I figured out something I was truly happy with. I'd like to thank [zetsubou69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubou69/pseuds/zetsubou69), as well as two others who wished to remain anonymous, for guiding my non-fluent ass through the ins and outs of Russian grammar. 
> 
> **
> 
> Twenty-eight chapters down, one to go; I'd like to thank everyone who's been along for the ride so far!


	29. 2263.307 - Scotty (M)

They were in the control hub for the environmental systems that afternoon, nothing between them and the floor but the jacket Scotty'd worn in that day.

It was the last day before first briefings, the last day before Scotty had to shave the beard all the way off, the last day they’d have alone like this for quite some time.

He was still catching his breath, stretched out on his side, head resting on Pavel’s shoulder, going a bit fuzzy and warm at the feeling of Pavel's fingers dragging gently through his hair.

They lay like that, in the near-silent little chamber with its diffuse ochre light, until Pavel stilled his movements. Scotty felt him shift slightly and take a deep breath.

"Do I take advantage of you?"

It took a very long pause for Scotty to process the actual words.

"Do you _what_?" he asked, pulling away to sit up.

Pavel shuffled himself up on his elbows and closed his eyes, sighing before looking up, expression all too contrite for Scotty’s liking.

"I'm with other people. I’ve never hidden that. I almost never see you with anyone else, though, and this," he gestured between them, "really only happens when the ship is out of service. And any other time, we don't really acknowledge it. I know that is somewhat necessary, but... does that feel unfair to you?"

Oh, Lord Above, he was serious.

By strict definitions, he was Pavel's superior officer. To say nothing of the fact that he was, what. Sixteen years older? To say _nothing_ of the fact that they'd been at this for over four years, and Pavel was asking if _he_ felt used.

Scotty scrubbed a hand over his face and did his best not to break down laughing, with moderate success.

"You asking if I'm jealous?"

"In a way, I suppose so."

"Pasha, when the ship's in service, I've barely got time for _myself_. Hell, the ship _isn't_ in service, and I'm still here."

Pavel nodded slowly.

"Perhaps. That does not feel like the question I asked, though."

“Then help me understand.”

It took a moment, but Pavel found the words.

"I know that I am unusual. The way I do these things, I mean. And I was worried that it might seem... callous? Or maybe that I am ashamed of you. Or that the things… that I feel for others, or do with others, means that I love _you_ less. Or want you less. And I realized that I have never really asked if it makes you unhappy."

_So ashamed of me, you were wandering around in nothing but swim trunks and my ring around your neck for a week_ , he almost teased, but thought better of it.

Scotty regarded him for a moment, until something occurred to _him_.

He leaned over to press a small, soft kiss to the corner of Pavel's mouth.

"Maybe it's not what I ever pictured. And I'm not perfect... but I love you, and yes, I'm very happy. What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are _you_ unhappy?"

Pavel's expression turned then, a smile spreading as he reached a hand up to sweep the hair from Scotty's eyes.

"I am very, very happy. I just couldn’t stand worrying that maybe you were… tolerating things, rather than accepting."

Scotty leaned down for another kiss, pressing to the underside of Pavel's jaw.

"Would you accept it? I mean, other way around? I'll have you know, I get up to plenty, even if you don't _see_ it."

Pavel gasped out a shocked laugh.

" _No_! But with who?"

"Oh, Pasha, Pasha, Pasha. That's not jealousy I hear?" he grinned against Pavel's throat.

Giggling, Pavel pushed softly at his shoulders, looking him in the eyes with the widest, brightest smile Scotty had ever seen.

"No, no. Just surprised. _Should_ I be jealous?" he teased, adding impishly, "I could always pretend to be, for you."

"Beastly thing. Why should you be?" he asked, tracing his fingers down Pavel's chest, catching the edge of the ring and tugging ever so slightly, and he whispered, "We could fuck our way through the entire fleet, twice, and I'd still be yours."

Pavel was perhaps the least emotionally guarded person that Scotty had ever known.

And yet, the look of plain and unabashed vulnerability on his face in that moment was passing rare.

"Oh, Mitya."

Scotty had barely enough time to register it all before Pavel's fingers were clutched to his shoulders, dragging him down for a kiss - deep, sweet, slow, and all the answer he'd ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are other stories to tell from this particular timeline, but this particular arc is more or less at its close.
> 
> If it weren't for [exorin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exorin/works) ([exorin](https://exorin.tumblr.com)), Pavel's nicknames for the crew would have sat dusty in a google document I typed out four years ago, and never would have seen the light of day.  
> She, [trickstergabe](https://archiveofourwn.rg/users/trickstergabe/works) ([randominterlope](https://randominterlope.tumblr.com)), and [marlyjack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlyjack/works) ([tanjell-o](https://tanjell-o.tumblr.com)) all kept more or less corralling me into sitting down and making this happen.
> 
> (Also, I figured if Frank Ocean could finally drop his second album on us, I could get off my ass and get these chapters posted. Motivation comes from strange quarters sometimes.)
> 
> Thank you all so, SO much for reading along, for your notes of encouragement, and for all of the wonderful feedback you've given me.  
> This has been a wild month of my life.
> 
> If you'd ever like to come say hello, you can always find me on tumblr at [hoverboardbandit](https://hoverboardbandit.tumblr.com).


End file.
